Magic carpets weren't unfamiliar in Western culture—they appeared in all sorts of fairy tales.
Natasha made a flying motion. Like this?
Bella nodded. She couldn't figure out why there'd be a magic carpet in the White House's underground bunker. This was obviously a magical artifact from the Arab world, yet it had suddenly appeared before her eyes—quite unexpected.
By her guess, it was probably... probably stolen, right?
Magic was too far removed from the ordinary world, and magical energy across the entire world was fading.
Much information had been lost to the river of history. When this magic carpet had arrived at the White House, no one now knew.
The original owner might have known something, and the thieves probably knew some details too, but they didn't understand magic—they just knew it was important. As for its effects and how to use it? No idea. After a hundred-some years, what little information there was had slowly been lost.
"Take me flying later!"
"Sure!"
The sisters happily reached an agreement. Bella reverse-summoned the magic carpet to Pyramid Head for safekeeping.
The Golden Apple was also in Pyramid Head's hands. This powerful Piece of Eden couldn't see the light of day—she'd even kept it from Natasha.
Earlier, she'd hit the president with an extremely subtle Mind Blast to daze him, then summoned Pyramid Head to snatch the Golden Apple before finally creating an illusion that could last over ten days and placing it in the president's hand. Calling it an illusion wasn't quite right—what she created had physical form, just couldn't exist permanently.
Whether the magic carpet or the Golden Apple, both needed research back home. For now in Washington, they should keep a low profile.
Besides, today was Saturday. Theoretically, they could still enjoy another day...
Anyone who could become president wouldn't be without connections. The president, under S.H.I.E.L.D.'s protection, immediately contacted his subordinates and applied pressure from multiple angles—party, politics, connections, and military—against the former Speaker of the House, now acting president.
After all, he was a properly elected president. Legally speaking, the president had far more legitimacy than the Speaker serving as president.
I'm still alive! I'm not dead! What the hell are you invoking Constitutional amendments for!
Political leaders worldwide were all laughing themselves sick, though they still issued their various statements—all supporting the elected president.
For freedom, for democracy, you must stay calm, you must engage in dialogue, resolve disputes within the law. Of course, if you wanted another Civil War, they wouldn't object either. They could even sell weapons and provide loans...
The Russian president even mentioned at a private reception that if American friends had need, Tsar Bombas were available in any quantity! Plenty to go around!
A civil war was impossible. The military-industrial complex chose to compromise, betraying the Speaker of the House once again.
The Speaker's presidency was deemed illegal! There might be impeachment attempts against the president later, but that was no longer his concern.
After America sacrificed a Vice President, a Speaker of the House, a Secretary of Defense, and over a dozen government officials, this crisis barely reached its conclusion.
The White House hadn't been completely destroyed. The main building, fountain, and front lawn had all been bombed, but the Oval Office on the west side had luckily survived.
The president was already working there with his staff. The rubble on site hadn't been cleared yet—no one knew who should pay for it. Now crowds of citizens stood at the ruins taking photos...
By Bella's thinking, taking photos there now seemed inappropriate, but seeing everyone treat it so casually, she joined in too.
Click—Bella and Natasha held up peace signs, their figures forever frozen in a photo before the White House ruins. Looking at their bright smiles, those who didn't know might think they'd been the ones to bomb the White House...
The family spent a thrilling and exciting weekend, then headed home. Those who needed to attend school continued attending school, those who needed to work continued working.
Worried about retaliation from the military-industrial complex, the president didn't publicize their names. In official records, the president was rescued by S.H.I.E.L.D. Director Nick Fury's team. The family of four were pure bystanders in the whole affair and naturally wouldn't receive any hero medals.
When leaving Washington D.C., someone came to register their names, but Bella used a Charm to fool them. The few remaining traces were wiped clean by S.H.I.E.L.D.
Their companion Duke had worse luck. He had no means to cover his tracks. Combined with the president's shallow impression of him, interest groups quickly found his personal information. A single Department of Defense transfer order moved him from the Capitol Police to active military duty—as a frontline soldier.
The family of four returned to Los Angeles. Late one night, Bella reverse-summoned her White House spoils.
The magic carpet and the Golden Apple.
The magic carpet was safe and clean—just a magical flight device.
Bella suspected Doctor Strange's cloak was probably a magic carpet that Kamar-Taj mages had forcibly sewn into cloak form.
This modification wasn't necessarily wrong. Carpet-to-cloak conversion would reduce speed somewhat, but it bypassed the headache-inducing initial process—namely, the activation command problem.
After studying it for ages, where was she supposed to find this command word?
Proper mages could get answers through divination, precognition, and vague searching. More aggressive ones could directly ask those extradimensional demon gods. Bella was stuck.
Psionic adepts only believed in themselves—all their power came from within.
Bella had no channels to seek answers from those corporeal and incorporeal big shots. She either knew or she didn't—there was no middle ground of maybe.
"I'll look through books later, or try brute-force calculation?" She wasn't entirely sure. Both methods had limitations. Worst case, she'd wait until her psionic power grew strong enough to forcibly crack it.
Regardless, having this thing in her hands was better than letting it gather dust in the White House bunker.
She set the carpet aside and picked up the Golden Apple, examining it carefully.
She really hadn't expected to find this in the White House!
She'd played several Assassin's Creed games in her previous life and knew about Ezio and Altaïr, but her knowledge stayed at a general level. Wow, great graphics! Wow, cool moves! Game completed, set it aside, goodbye!
She knew the game storyline but wasn't clear on specific plot points or the behind-the-scenes connections.
There were simply too many Assassin's Creed games, animations, and novels, and many viewpoints contradicted each other. Unless you were a hardcore fan, you wouldn't delve into it all.